


Character Customisation

by merryfortune (orphan_account)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Author Appeal, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Spectre mulls over whether or not he wants to upgrade his avatar since Revolver has.





	Character Customisation

   Spectre erred in front of the mirror. He put his hand to his chin and his forehead creased as his eyebrows continued to furrow down his brow. With his other hand, he conjured the first menu and then began to flick through the options. He was unsatisfied with much of what he was presented but he had to admit. The Vrains character customisation menus were in-depth and thorough.

   Though, contrary to what many people would say, Spectre was rather happy with his face. Though, part of him was tempted to try a new eye colour. Perhaps green, or maybe brown? Still, he erred.

   Beside him, Revolver manifested. “I thought I might find you here.”

   “Yes, here I am. Subjecting myself to trite vanity.” Spectre replied. “If you have a task for me, I don’t mind. I’ve barely started.”

   “I have no tasks for you. I only came because I was curious.” Revolver said.

   “Curious enough to hack the private customisation server?” Spectre replied, a touch cynical.

   “It’s been a slow day. No activity of any sort from any of our enemies.” Revolver confessed.

   “It’s the quietest days which test us all.” Spectre mused.

   He seemed to have finally made a choice regarding a new hairstyle and colour for his avatar. One that he immediately regrated given his grimace. It was deep and full of loathing. Though, admittedly, Revolver disliked this new hairstyle as well but clearly not to the point of hatred Spectre harboured for it.

   “How are you liking your new avatar, anyway?” Spectre asked.

   “I’m getting used to it. The world is kind of glazed and whitish now, rather than a sickly yellow.” Revolver replied.

   “Interesting.” Spectre said.

   He cancelled the new hairstyle he had placed on his avatar. His hair returned to the same quiff of silver which was longer on one half of his head than the other. Then, he exited the hairstyle menu and chose the facial accessories menu. He kept scrolling until he got the tab which allowed him to mould a mask to his own design.

   Spectre spent a few seconds idling with a mask. He chose a basic design, similar to that of his other knights but he was soon displeased with it. He sighed. Immediately, Spectre deleted the mask from his face. It seemed to Revolver that Spectre wanted some sort of change but was rejecting anything he had toyed with the idea of, even slightly.

   “May I make a suggestion?” Revolver asked.

   “I am all ears, Revolver-sama.” Spectre replied and there was a tone of defeat.

   “What sort of inspiration do you have in mind?” Revolver asked.

   “I don’t know. I just want a change.” Spectre sighed.

   “That’s the problem. You need a direction to go in.” Revolver stated.

   “I see.” Spectre chewed on his reply, mulling over the implications. “Do you have any suggestions for a direction I ought to go in?”

   “Well, we are a team. You are my second-in-command; perhaps something evocative of that. Demonstrates your position but still suggests there is someone who tiers higher than you in the chain of command.” Revolver seemed to bluster through his statement.

   Spectre half expected that. It made sense. He sighed and decided that, for once, he might play a trick on his master. Spectre hid his menus from Revolver and then quickly accessed data that, perhaps, he should not have saved. In a moment, he was soon wearing the garb of Revolver’s previous avatar with some colours tweaked and he had foregone the mask.

   So, now, he wore a cyber-punk catsuituit and trailing jacket. Winding around his neck from his chest, he had a thin and silicon-looking cord. The colouration of the entire ensemble was more towards white, black, and yellow rather than white, red, and green like Revolver had worn.

   Spectre gave a quick and vain flourish. “Well?” he prompted. His earrings glittered as he showed them off, rather smugly too.

   Revolver looked away. “I don’t like it. It’s embarrassing.”

   “Very well then.” Spectre snapped his fingers.

   Tcatsuituit vanished and was replaced with Spectre’s almost pastor-like outfit which he had been wearing before.

   “Well, if you have old uniforms stored. Why not try that of Faust or Genome?” Revolver suggested.

   “I did consider that, but I feel like four near-identical variations of the same uniform is too matching. They are a unit; we are unit.” Spectre replied.

   “Very well then. What about something else? Perhaps refining something from a magazine to be more reflective of the Hanoi aesthetic then?” Revolver suggested.

   “Well, something did just come to mind, but it is awfully self-indulgent.” Spectre confessed.

   “Let’s see it.” Revolver said.

   “Very well then.” Spectre relented.

   Revolver had a feeling that whatever was about to be posed by Spectre was going to be reject-worthy for a myriad of reasons. The use of “self-indulgent” had Revolver particularly concerned. Use of that phrase often covered anything from Spectre justifying buying or making sweets for them to discussion of dendrophilia and related paraphernalia. This could be horrifying.

   A few minutes passed, and Spectre finalised his costume choices. They soon manifested over the old avatar’s fashions and Revolver was, pleasantly surprised. He had expected tentacles or something else perverse, but not intentionally so, but instead, Spectre was now wearing something evocative of British fashion; Edwardian-retro.

   Spectre appeared to have gained another inch or so on his height as he now wore pointlessly thick, suede brothel creepers with tapered trousers. Both of which were white, but his shoes did have the imprint of a leopard print pattern on them; coloured a slight grey. He wore a waist coat and bolo tie. He looked nice, but it wasn’t as sleek as Revolver would have preferred. It was very loose and almost baggy; accentuating how lanky Spectre naturally was, both online and offline. Still, colour wise, he hadn’t evolved much, and it did somewhat incorporate with the “Hanoi aesthetic” whilst showing some of Spectre’s personality and individuality.

   Spectre tugged on his waist coat and he seemed to have become aware that he had perhaps let too much come loose from the more form-fitting suits that he wore. Still, he seemed pleased with himself.

   “I like it.” he said. “It’s called teddy boy style. It was popular in England in the early sixties.”

   “You have always been an Anglophile… among things.” Revolver agreed. “But might I make some alterations?”

   “Give me a moment, I want to save this, in case I want to come back to it.” Spectre said.

   “Go right ahead.” Revolver said.

   He permitted the pause and once Spectre gave the okay, he stepped closer. Spectre let him touch him and it was a strangely intimate moment as Spectre let Revolver’s hands roam so he could make those alterations. He brought in the size of the waist coat and changed the trousers from boot cut to skinny. All of these motions, these seemingly casual motions, caused Spectre to stiffen and his heart to race.

   Then, Revolver got bold.

   He didn’t just change Spectre’s clothes, but other parts of him. He lengthened Spectre’s hair and darkened it to a stormier grey. So, now, it hung down his back in a great swath; something Revolver tied with a copy of Spectre’s bolo tie around his neck.

   Revolver brushed through Spectre’s hair before stepping back to admire his work. Spectre turned around for him. He noticed that Revolver looked assuredly happy with himself. There was a tint of something nigh lustful in his eyes.

   “Satisfied?” Spectre asked.

   “No, not quite.” Revolver replied as he recalled how nicely his earrings had sparkled in Spectre’s ears, hidden among the cascades of his silver hair.

   Revolver snapped his fingers. He accessed the data that he had stored, for his private use and there, manifested his earrings. He inspected them for a moment and the bullets wouldn’t work. Not for Spectre and he had them replaced with different jewels. The blue was nice but green would suit Spectre better, Revolver thought.

   “Put these in.” Revolver said as he handed them to Spectre.

   Spectre took them delicately. As soon as he pinched them, they vanished and were equipped to his avatar.

   “What about now?” Spectre asked.

   Revolver licked his lips. He found himself glancing at different parts of Spectre’s avatar and then blushing; fortunately, such redness did not translate into his avatar but still. He could feel his cheeks grow warm and he couldn’t look at Spectre directly.

   “I think I misjudged the colouration of your earrings. They don’t match the jewels on your tie’s pin.” Revolver replied. “But other than that, I would be satisfied with you wearing this as your avatar.”

   “Thank you.” Spectre replied and then he had the colour adjusted.

   Revolver’s lips twitched.

   “But I don’t know if I can get used to a change.” Spectre said, and he toyed with his new pony tail. “This just seems excessively long.”

   The colouration of his hair lightened again; to the original hue that Spectre had set it so that it imitated the actual colour of his hair. He also glanced at his clothes and inspected his cufflinks; they were shaped like twigs with little leaves on them. They were rather cute, and Revolver hadn’t noticed them before. Spectre had always been the thorough type.

   “I think I prefer the natural look.” Spectre mused. “And I fear the fabric choices don’t mesh with the more plastic look of the rest of our organisation… I might save this for later. So, I can commit to a new appearance later, perhaps.”

   “Perhaps.” Revolver croaked.

   “It feels as though all this time has been spent for naught.” Spectre huffed as he brought up the menu.

   His current outfit, and other stylisations such as his new hair length, appeared as an option on this new screen. Next to it, was his previous outfit and he highlighted it. He confirmed and once again, all changes were unmade.

   “I disagree.” Revolver spoke up.

   “You do?” Spectre was slightly surprised.

   “I got to spend time with you. That is always worthwhile.” Revolver said.

   Spectre’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad.”

   “And,” Revolver continued, “as it has been a slow day, perhaps we could continue. Spending time with each other, that is. As friends, rather than as a leader and second-in-command.”

   “Yes, we should. I believe that it is getting close to dinner. Let’s log out. I’ll make you something to eat.”

   Revolver smiled. “I would like that. I like you’re cooking a lot.”

   Spectre was warmed by such a sight. He cherished it even because seeing it made him feel good. Very good. Especially since Revolver smiled less and less nowadays. Thus, seeing it was a bit like seeing a rainbow after a storm. So, they logged out together.


End file.
